


a lot like forever

by ephemeralexistence



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, and get a peek on what happens to betty and jughead after they run away from riverdale, and jughead is my beloved wistful snowflake, and perhaps sappy to some extent, and then we go some time in the future, just a little though, some version of happily ever after, there might be a little pain, this is very fluffy, which is to say a throwback to when betty was the sweetest girl riverdale has ever known
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 22:25:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15543459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralexistence/pseuds/ephemeralexistence
Summary: “Why do you think people get married?” Jughead asks suddenly.It surprises Betty and she doesn’t have an answer to it. She’s been reading a lot of books lately, but  unfortunately, she has yet to come upon the reason why people get married.“I don’t know. Maybe you just have to one day... when you get older.”“Huh. Well, I think I won’t get married even if I get older,” Jughead states, his tone flat.“How come?” Betty asks, propping her head on one hand as she faces Jughead. He has his eyes closed.“I think marriage makes people sad and angry. It makes two friends hate each other, and call each other names.”ORWhat happens when 10 year old Betty and Jughead talk about marriage?And then, what happens when older Betty and Jughead talk about marriage?





	a lot like forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedenisecarla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedenisecarla/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not have rights over the characters, they belong to Riverdale and Archie Comics.
> 
> Many thanks to @a92vm for beta-reading this for me! Ya girl who doesn't have a consistent verb-tenses game appreciate your help a lot! 
> 
> @denisecarla - thank you for always being such a supportive friend! I had you in mind when I started writing this.

**_October 2, 2011_ **

  


Betty feels a slight shiver run through her body as she steps into the cold morning carrying a bag of freshly baked cupcakes in one hand, and a meticulously wrapped package in the other. A thin layer of mist shrouds the backyard of the Joneses where a treehouse stands—a tiny yet sturdy wooden box perched atop of an ancient maple tree.

  


The leaves have just begun to turn a soft shade of red and gold, and Betty pauses a few feet from the tree just to admire it for a bit longer. She bounces through the crisp fallen leaves scattered underneath the tree, past the lopsided “KEEP OUT” sign beside the ladder perched on the tree trunk.

  


She tucks the package behind her jeans, carefully puts the bag of cupcakes in the pocket of her overcoat, and she begins climbing the ladder to the treehouse.

  


She had been preparing for this day for weeks. She’d even asked her mother to teach her how to bake chocolate cupcakes because she’d wanted to bake something special for Jughead on his 10th birthday.

  


Jughead is her best friend; and he may be the only person she knows who dislikes his birthday to a fault. It hadn’t always been like this though. She remembers a time when Jughead  used to get excited, in his own little Jughead fashion, in the days leading to his birthday—a time when his mother threw parties for him, and she was always in attendance. They’d been a lot smaller then.

  


She stops when she reaches the top rung of the ladder, knocking on the rectangular hatch before pushing it open. Jughead had told her before that she didn’t have to do that, and that she could just barge her way into the treehouse if she wanted—“this is your treehouse too, Betts,” he would say—but Betty has never been quite comfortable going into other people’s rooms, or treehouses for that matter, without making her presence known first.  

  


(Betty has a feeling that knocking before entering is one of the things that would be included in the list of things that a “proper lady” ought to do, whatever that means.)

  


She frowns a little when she doesn’t hear an answer. She knocks once more, but still no answer comes. She heaves the hatch open and peers through the interior of the treehouse. She finds Jughead lying on the floor, eyes closed; cables of what seem to be his earphones visible past where they’re hidden beneath a funny woolen hat that never seems to leave Jughead’s head.

  


Betty makes her way to where he’s laying, her lower lip trapped between her teeth to keep her excitement under control. She plops herself down beside Jughead, careful not to wrinkle her coat, or sit on the neatly tucked package in the back of her jeans.

  


He opens his eyes slowly, one eye after the other, before pushing himself up into a sitting position, surprise written all over his face. Taking out one of his earphones, he says, “Betts, what’s up?”

  


“I came by your house, but no one was there. I figured I’ll find you here, and I wanted to—” she trails when she notices the redness around Jughead’s eyes, and the visible shine on his small, pointy nose. She frowns and asks in a soft voice, “What’s wrong, Juggie? Is everything okay?”

  


He lifts both shoulders in a shrug, as if to say  _ nothing, no big deal _ —the way he always does whenever something  _ is _ definitely wrong.

  


“C’mon, Jug. You can talk to me. I’m your best friend, remember?”

  


He huffs out a breath, inhales once more, and gives her a quick glance before looking down at the hands folded in his lap. “Their fights are getting worse, Betty,” he says in a small voice so full of sadness that Betty feels something squeeze inside her chest. “Last night was so bad, my mom packed a bag and left with Jellybean. She said they’d crash at a friend in Centreville and they haven’t come back since.”

  


Tears begin to sting at the corner of her eyes, and she blinks them away, grabbing one of Jughead’s hand in both of hers. “Oh, Juggie. I’m so sorry.”

  


(Jughead’s parents fight all the time. He used to talk about how he would hide with his little sister Jellybean in his room, earphones plugged in both ears as Mr. and Mrs. Jones shout at each other. It used to intrigue Betty. She had never seen her own parents fight, aside from the occasional—“Can I talk to you for a second, Hal?”—and her parents would disappear in their basement for a while and reappear on the table a few minutes later like nothing happened.)

  


“Well, I guess it’s a long time coming,” Jughead says, facing her completely. “They just can’t stand each other.”

  


“What did Mr. Jones say?”

  


He shrugs again before saying, “I haven’t seen him since last night either. He just took his bike, and drove off to wherever he goes all the time. Anyway—” his voice makes a slight change in pitch, marking the end of that part of the conversation. “How come you’re here this early?”

  


“Oh!” Betty exclaims, remembering the initial purpose of her visit. “I made you cupcakes for your birthday,” she says in a measured tone, handing him the bag she’d hidden inside her coat. “Happy birthday, Juggie!”

  


Jughead’s eyebrows scrunch up together, and he purses his lips in a way that makes him look like he’s about to cry, but after a while, he sighs instead. In a broken voice, he says,  “Thanks, Betts. Thank you for remembering. At least I know someone does.” He gives her one of his close-mouthed lopsided grins, and then he starts fishing inside the bag.

  


He begins wolfing down one cupcake after another, and Betty feels strangely proud.

  


“Aren’t you going to eat some?” Jughead asks after finishing  his third cupcake, little crumbs peppering the corners of his mouth.

  


“Oh, no, I’m good,” she shakes her head, feeling the ends of her ponytail tickle the back of her neck. “I’ve already had plenty at home when I was taste-testing it. Mom said I’m only allowed to eat one cupcake a day.”

  


Jughead looks baffled, as if she’d said something he doesn’t quite understand. “Huh, that’s weird. I didn’t know there’s a limit to the number of cupcakes you can eat.” He takes one more cupcake from the bag and hands it to her. “Here, have one more. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. Besides, you made them for my birthday, you have to eat one with me.”

  


“Okay,” Betty concedes. “I guess I can eat one more with you.”

  


They eat their cupcakes in silence, lying side by side on the floor, their feet propped up on the wall.

  


Later, Betty opens one eye and looks at Jughead from the corner of her eye. He has has his eyes closed again, his expression blank.

  


“Have you had breakfast yet?” Betty asks.

  


“Hmm, yeah. Toast, eggs, and milk. I found some in our fridge,” he answers simply.

  


Something about it doesn’t sit well in Betty’s stomach. She has a distinct feeling that 10 year olds—even the ones that act so grown up—aren’t supposed to be making their breakfasts alone at home, much less being left alone at home. (She doesn’t say it though. Jughead doesn’t like it when she asks too much about home.)

  


“Why do you think people get married?” Jughead asks suddenly.

  


It surprises Betty and she doesn’t have an answer to it. She’s been reading a lot of books lately, but  unfortunately, she has yet to come upon the reason why people get married.

  


“I don’t know. Maybe you just have to one day... when you get older.”

  


“Huh. Well, I think I won’t get married even if I get older,” Jughead states, his tone flat.

  


“How come?” Betty asks, propping her head on one hand as she faces Jughead. He still has his eyes closed.

  


“I think marriage makes people sad and angry. It makes two friends hate each other, and call each other names.”

  


Betty frowns and thinks about his answer. Her parents are married. She doesn’t think they’re friends but they don’t seem to hate each other.

  


“What makes you say that?” she asks again. She’s always been interested in what Jughead thinks.

  


He shrugs before he says, “My parents always say it when they fight, how it used to be so much better when they were not married. Not that I would know though, as far as I can remember, they’ve always been married.”

  


He doesn’t say anything else, and Betty thinks that she has to say something, or perhaps even do something.

  


“I think we’ll just have to figure that out when we get older,” she says and waits for his answer. It doesn’t come, so she says instead, “Hey, what are you doing the rest of the day?”

  


“No plans, maybe just hang around here all day. Maybe even finish my  _ Catcher in the Rye _ essay.”

  


She knows about the essay. She had finished her own about a week ago, and she’d been oddly reminded of Jughead whenever she read about Holden Caulfield. But once again, she doesn’t tell him that.

  


Jughead shivers slightly, and Betty notices how light he’s dressed for the chilly morning. She quietly strips out of her coat, lays flat on her back, and draws her coat over them. Jughead gives her a questioning look, but she simply snuggles closer to him.

  


“My mom calls this an overcoat, and it’s large enough for the two of us,” she states guilelessly. The protest she’d been expecting doesn’t come. She smiles.

  


They remain bundled up for a while, no words exchanged as the wind makes the treehouse sway a little. A few auburn leaves have made their way inside, one particular leaf making a pirouette before it gets carried away outside through the small opening on the sidewall.

  


“Juggie?” Betty asks later.

  


“Hmmm?”

  


“I have something else for you,” Betty says, sitting up and untucking the package she’d been hiding in the back of her jeans. “Here.”

  


“Oh, Betty. You didn’t have to. I told you, I’m fine.” Jughead says as he pushes himself to a sitting position, looking embarrassed, but receiving the package nonetheless. He then gives the wrapped rectangular object a shake, and asks, “What’s this?”

  


“Open it,” Betty breathes, barely holding back her excitement.

  


Jughead apprehensively unwraps the package, and then a pair of elegant notebooks are revealed—the kind where writers ought to write.

  


He stays silent for a while, just breathing in and out while he stares at the gift. After a couple of minutes, he raises his head, eyes shining with unshed tears, and with a strangled voice he says, “thank you, Betty. I don’t know what to say.”

  


Betty’s smile widens, and she throws both arms over his shoulders, patting him gently on his back. “Just promise me that you’ll keep writing,” she whispers. “Also, promise me that you’ll dedicate your first book to me.”

  


She hears him sniffle, and Betty knows better than to look at his face now, so she maintains the embrace.

  


“I promise,” he murmurs a little bit later.

  


  


* * *

  


  


**_August 4, 2031_ **

  


Jughead finds himself having a hard time calming the wild beating of his heart as he fidgets in his seat. He decides that he still doesn’t feel quite comfortable in settings where there are floor-to-ceiling windows, magnificent chandeliers hanging off the ceiling, and several lit candles on rows of expensive tables that are booked for weeks in advance. He’d been in this particular restaurant only once before—with Betty a couple of years back, when they’d celebrated her promotion as an assistant editor at  _ Slate _ —because it had only seemed right then.

  


Now, he’s here for an entirely different reason. Dressed from head to toe in a suit that fits—not like the ones he’d worn when he was younger, ones that had never been quite the right size for him—and polished leather shoes; in short, he’s looking a lot different from how he used to. His once beloved crown-shaped beanie is nowhere near his head, and certainly there is no leather jacket weighing heavily on his shoulders.

  


He’s way past safety blankets now. The only safety he craves nowadays is the one he finds when he’s enveloped in an embrace of a certain Hitchcock blonde—Betty Cooper.

  


He had come a long way after all.

  


_ They _ had come a long way.

  


Betty has been with him for the most part of his long journey. She’d been with him from the earliest memory he can remember, to the time when he’d become a homeless teenager with a deadbeat father and a disenfranchised mother, to when he’d become entangled in a gang and got caught in a crossfire between opposing sides of a small town’s civil war. She’d been with him when he’d gotten out of their small town and escaped into the concrete jungle of New York City – first as a struggling college student, and then later as a struggling novelist finding his way into the larger world.

  


She’d been with him, even during the times that they’d been broken up—which had happened quite often. Four times to be exact—twice, back when they were teenagers, young and naive, and only wanted what they’d thought had been best for each other; once again when they’d both been hustling through college and they had succumbed to the pressures of student life, and once more when they’d both been navigating through the adult iteration of their relationship.

  


(Their relationship hadn’t always been perfect, if anything it was far from it, but it was something as integral in their life as life itself. It was the magnet that had been keeping both of them grounded, and it had always, always pulled them towards each other. Through the years, they found that the place where they will always belong is next to each other.)

  


Betty Cooper has been with him through it all.

  


Granted, he’s been with her through it all too.

  


He’d been with her while she’d fought the darkness inside of her, to when she’d learned to tame it and accepted it as part of who she is. He’d been with her during the time when she hadn’t known how to face the town she had so valiantly fought for amid the crisis of knowing that her own father had been a psychotic serial killer; he’d been with her when they finally were able to run away from their deceptively innocent hometown with an ominous underbelly. He’d been with her as she struggled through college, because she’d always been the type to be too hard on herself; and he’d been with her when she had been steering her proverbial wheels in the adult world, until she had found her place in it.

  


They’ve been together for most of their life, and Jughead is consumed by the thought that they ought to spend the rest of it together too.

  


Which is why he’d been agonizing about this day for months and months. He hasn’t always been the type to believe in marriage. In fact, he thought of it a curse as a child, and then as a teen he’d developed an even more cynical view on it, labeling it nothing more than a capitalist institution. He’d always thought that a contract between two people wouldn’t change a thing about their feelings for each other. 

  


But as he had grown older, a glorious epiphany dawned upon him—that Betty Cooper deserved the very best that she can get out of this ephemeral existence and, that if in some small way he can provide it to her, then he will goddamn do his very best to do so.

  


Marriage is one of those ways. Betty has always believed in marriage.

  


So, this is what he will be asking from her—if she will be willing to spend the next stage of her journey with him.

  


A soft clicking of heels moving in his direction pulls him out of his thoughts, and Jughead feels his heart leap to his throat. He snaps his head up just in time to see Betty pulling out the chair across him, looking as exquisite as she always does. (They’ve been together for over half of their lives, but Jughead still finds his breath catching from time to time whenever he looks at her.)

  


“You look beautiful, Betts,” he tells her once she’s settled across him. She’s dressed in a simple floor-length red satin dress that highlights the green in her eyes.

  


“Thank you. You look dapper yourself, Jughead Jones,” she counters, levity palpable in her voice. “So, you never told me what we’re celebrating tonight.”

  


Jughead takes a couple of deep breaths, wringing his hands under the table, before finally handing her the rectangular object that had been lying on the table since he’d arrived. “Well…” he mumbles and then he clears his throat. “I just wanted to give you this.”

  


“Aww, thank you. What’s this?” she asks, a mischievous smile forming on her lips, her eyes sparkling.

  


“Open it.”

  


She does, and moments later, she raises her head to him, fat tears tumbling down her cheeks.

  


The gift is the second installment of the novel he’d published several years ago, back when they’d only been fresh out of college. The first one had been dedicated to her, as he’d promised her in their youth. This one is still dedicated to her. Just to her.  _ Always to her. _

  


Jughead takes out the velvet box he’d kept hidden inside the inner pocket of his jacket, and then he stands up and kneels on one knee beside Betty.

  


He whispers an iteration of what she’d just read on the dedication of the book she has clutched in her hands, “Betty Cooper, will you give me the honor of becoming your husband for the rest of your life?” He looks up at her with tears blurring his vision.

  


Betty leaps from her seat and throws her arms around him, unmindful of the few patrons dining in the table near theirs. “Yes! Yes, I will, Juggie. You know I will,” she exclaims on a tearful laugh, as Jughead pulls away slightly to slip the ring on her left hand. It’s a three-stone ring – a diamond flanked on both sides by two emeralds.

  


He stands up and pulls Betty in an embrace, both of them swaying slightly back and forth for a while, as he whispers in her ear, “Thank you for everything, Betty. I love you.”

  


He hears her sniffle before she raises her eyes to meet his, hers so full love and tenderness and he hopes she sees the same things mirrored on his own. “I love you too, Jughead Jones.”

  


He exhales softy, letting the serenity of the moment wash over him. He basks in the comfort of knowing that Betty will always be with him  while they trudge on ahead, facing whatever life throws at them as they continue to make their way into the world.

  


_ Fin. _

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching My Girl (1991) the other day, and this idea dawned on me. I didn't follow the tragic trajectory of the little kids' friendship, but it gave me an idea to write about prepubescent Bughead talking about marriage. :p 
> 
> I hope you liked it! I'd love it if you tell me what you thought about it!


End file.
